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by Windstorms



Series: The One That Got Away [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist (2003), Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 12:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20796926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windstorms/pseuds/Windstorms
Summary: Timestamp to chapter 3 of The One That Got Away. What happened the night Ed was out getting drunk.Ed finally runs into alter!Roy, and learns something about letting go.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting of an old work.

Ed took another healthy gulp of his beer and swallowed through the burn.

He’d been drinking to numb himself. It never solved anything, but it usually helped him forget about home, about his brother, about Mustang, for at least a little while.

It wasn’t working for him this time.

Not that long ago, Ed used to come here with Alfons. The bar was nothing special; just a little run-down establishment on the edge of the city. It was still busy for a late night on a weekday, with patrons seated at nearly every table around the room.

A group of soldiers were seated at one of the tables in the back, and Ed’s attention kept getting drawn over to them. He knew he shouldn’t call attention to himself by staring at them, and he really couldn’t trust anyone here, but he couldn’t help himself. Just the sight of a military uniform was enough to remind him...

It was definitely time to head back when his thoughts started drifting in that direction.

He tipped the bottle back again and finished off his beer. Ed pushed his chair back and stood up from the table, tossing a few bills down to cover his tab. He turned towards the doorway, a little unsteady on his feet, and stumbled right into a uniformed chest.

“Excuse me,” the man murmured smoothly in German.

Ed opened his mouth to snarl a reply, but the words died on his tongue. He knew that voice, although he’d never heard it speak that language. Before he even looked up and actually saw Roy Mustang, he thought _no, please, no_. He’d seen too many of his loved ones faces turn out to be nothing more than strangers already. Please, please _not this one_. It would simply be too cruel. Hadn’t he paid enough already?

When he looked up, his heart sank.

It was him, but of course it wasn’t.

Damn it. For a brief instant, standing in the middle of a crowded bar with too many memories filling his head for the alcohol to chase away, Ed was momentarily transfixed by dark eyes and hair. It was like stepping into one of his dreams where he was back at home; all the disjointed thoughts he tried to push away rushing back to him at once – the dreams where Roy Mustang was right there, close enough to touch.

This Mustang looked young and relaxed; there was no hint of the weary and sad expression Ed remembered from their last meeting. Whatever suffering had changed the real Roy Mustang and left him looking so haunted had never happened to his double that existed in this world. This soldier appeared confident and eager. Ready to use and be used by the military, Ed reminded himself.

“Mustang?” he heard himself ask, knowing it was futile even as he said it, but wanting so badly for it to be him somehow.

The man shook his head in confusion, a hint of a bemused smile playing at his lips. But there was no trace of recognition in this Mustang’s eyes; Ed doubted this man even spoke a language other than German. Ed looked closer at the man’s face. He obviously wasn’t his Roy Mustang, but some unsettling ghost of the man he once knew instead. His features were identical, at first glance. But this man had two eyes, and his hair was slightly different. When Ed had last seen the general his hair had been longer, styled as if to cover up the loss of his eye. Ed swallowed hard and closed his eyes, trying to get his jumbled thoughts in order. It wasn’t General Mustang. It was just another soldier in a crisp, dark military uniform that wasn’t even the right shade of blue.

The man moved as if to grasp Ed by the arm, offering another apology. Ed shook his head sharply and stepped out of the other man’s reach as he stammered out an excuse. The man flashed him Roy Mustang’s same charming smile, but he looked at Ed as if he were no one in particular, just a clumsy drunken stranger in a bar.

At once torn between relief and disappointment, Ed excused himself again and turned away from the soldier. He had to get away. He didn’t look back as he hurriedly made his way through the crowd of people.

When he pushed through the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk he took a deep breath of the cold night air. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the icy air filling his lungs. It was the sort of chill that never failed to make Ed ache; a deep, throbbing pain that dug its way into every one of his many wounds, both old and new. Ed stopped to peel the glove from his flesh hand and blew into his palm to warm it before tugging the glove back on. Jamming his hands back into his pockets, he ducked his head against the wind and began walking. It wasn’t the way the cold was already biting into him or making his automail sting that was bothering him.

Every time he closed his eyes he could still see his face...

It rattled him seeing that face on a man that didn’t know him. There had been no flash of amusement or irritation in his eyes. It was yet another reminder of home, and probably the most painful one of all. He could take anything this world threw at him, even living with a boy that looked like his own brother, but not that.

He wondered what the real Roy Mustang, his Mustang, was doing now. Not _his_ Mustang, he reminded himself bitterly. He never had been Ed’s and he never would have been. But sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder… did the man ever even think of him as anything other than a nuisance? More importantly, did he ever think of him at all?

He would like to be remembered as something more than an immature brat that never let an opportunity to insult his commanding officer pass him by.

It was useless to think that way now. Ed kept his head down as he walked through the darkened city streets. Just a few streets over and he would be at the apartment. Al would be mad that he was out late again. Al was always mad these days.

It struck him suddenly that his brother never called this world home. Not once in the two months he’d been here. Al always made general references to ‘this place’ but he never let the word home slip past his lips unless he was talking about Amestris. Once, the younger boy had said his home lied with Ed, but Ed was starting to wonder. He saw the confusion and the longing ache that crept over his brother’s features when he thought Ed wasn’t paying attention. Ed recognized it easily because he’d worn the exact same expression for two lonely years.

In his heart, Ed couldn’t bring himself to name this place his home either. This world felt muted - plainer, darker, starker. Even the sky seemed less vibrant, as if something had sucked all the energy out of it. It was no wonder he used to think his entire existence here was nothing more than a dream.

He hadn’t had anywhere to call home in Amestris, not really. He’d had no gentle, loving mother or warm house to return to for years. Yet somehow, without even noticing it, the routine of popping into Headquarters to trade insults with the bastard, the subtle concern he was always greeted with by Mustang’s crew, had bred a familiarity that wasn’t quite a home, but maybe something like it.

And he missed it still. When the hell had that happened? How had anything associated with the military he once couldn’t wait to be away from suddenly brought him any measure of comfort?

But Ed knew it wasn’t the thought of the Amestris military that made his chest tighten, but rather one man in it.

He shook his head irritably. How did seeing one soldier in a military uniform with that face make him long for something he’d never had?

If he were being honest with himself, it wasn’t just Mustang that he missed late at night when Al was asleep and he was alone with his thoughts. He would often think of Winry, and Risembool, and how the stars that blanketed the clear night sky seemed to stretch on forever. As a young child, loved and secure and blissfully ignorant of the harsh realities that awaited him and his brother, he had once thought that nothing existed beyond the rolling green hills and dusty path that led between his house and Winry’s.

And the military and Risembool were both still home to him in their own ways, places where he felt accepted. They each held their share of memories both good and bad, but time and so much distance made the good ones stand out more in his thoughts.

Ed plodded along through the snow, head lowered against the bitterly cold wind. The snow had finally tapered off again after blanketing the city with several more inches of fresh accumulation. A strong wind gusted through the trees nearby, scattering a fine mist of snow and ice onto the frozen ground below. The wind stung his face, and he tugged the collar of his coat up with a sigh.

He kept his head ducked as he walked, besieged by memories of another time and place, lives that had touched his heart and shaped the person he had become. He could only hope he had meant even a fraction as much to them.

They would all have gone on with their lives without him by now. His stomach twisted at the thought and it had nothing to do with the bitter ale.

Mustang – whatever their differences in the past, the man, that perfectly beautiful smug man had lost his eye and Ed wasn’t there to help him. Alfons, once his only friend in this waking nightmare, had lost his life and Ed wasn’t there to stop it from happening. He couldn’t be in two places at once, he couldn’t be in two worlds at once… and that was the entire problem.

Every day he was torn between where he wanted to be and where he was, caught between a past he hadn’t fully appreciated and a present he couldn’t escape.

There was no way out of this. But now there was Al to consider. In the grand scheme of things they had gotten off easy. Ed knew that.

He’d robbed his little brother of his body and his memories, and they had spent two long years apart. Sometimes, even now, he wondered if the separation had created an insurmountable rift between them. Al had made the conscious choice to leave everything he knew behind and join him here. And for what? To watch him wander around aimlessly until he self-destructed?

It was one more sacrifice in the name of love that his brother never should have made.

He was responsible for Alphonse. Ed was truly all he had left now. He’d get him out of Germany, find them a safer place to live.

He would let go of Amestris and put his past behind him. He had to stop wasting his time thinking about Mustang and a life he never could have had.

Whatever else happened, he’d be a better brother from now on.

Trudging through the snow, he turned onto his quiet street and headed towards his new life. It was time to leave the old one behind.


End file.
